Last Chance
by ILoveTrees
Summary: PreHogwarts. Lonely, friendless Harry Potter has put up with a lifetime of torment and teasing from Dudley and all his classmates. Why should this year be any different? A fic about Harry's last year at primary school.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, certain events in Deathly Hallows not have happened…

A/N: I love reading any fics about Harry in primary school, but sadly there are very few on this site. So I've decided to write one of my own. I'm using the primary school system I grew up with and I'm pretty sure it's the same as the rest of England, so it should be accurate. This fic will be about Harry's last year of primary school so I'll be trying to incorporate all the events mentioned in Philosophers Stone and major points in the year like secondary school applications, and (of course!) events like Christmas. Enjoy!

* * *

"Boy? Boy, get up now! I need you to look after my Diddy's breakfast. He needs all his energy for school!"

Ten year old Harry Potter sat up with a groan. After nearly two months of running away from Dudley and his gang, he was going back for his last year at primary school. He wasn't looking forward to it. The only difference from the summer holidays was that he would have almost thirty kids teasing him, instead of just five.

Although, he thought as he pulled on his oversized uniform ("you'll grow into it!" Aunt Petunia had said), compared to the bruises Dudley had given him this summer, the teasing wasn't really that bad.

Harry pushed open the door to his cupboard, and brushed a couple of spiders off his jumper as he made his way into the kitchen.

Neither his cousin nor his uncle, who was engrossed in the newspaper, gave any sign of noticing his presence. Aunt Petunia scowled at him and pointed to the frying pan.

"Don't burn the bacon." She snapped at him. Her lips were even thinner than usual as she glared at him.

His wife's voice diverted Uncle Vernon's attention from the paper and he glanced up at Harry.

"Comb your hair!" he barked at Harry. "You only had it cut last week! It's unnatural for it to grow so quickly." He shot a sideways glance at Aunt Petunia, who sniffed.

"He looks more like that horrible boy every day." She remarked to Uncle Vernon, apparently thinking Harry couldn't hear her. Harry frowned. He couldn't think of anyone he had ever met that looked like him. So who was his aunt talking about?

He was distracted from his thoughts as the bacon crackled in the pan behind him. He picked it up and moved to put it on Dudley's plate.

"Thanks, _freak._" Dudley stuck his foot out as Harry turned away and sniggered as he stumbled over it, grazing his arm against the table. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia didn't seem to notice.

Harry picked himself up, placed the pan back on the cooker and walked quietly out of the room, rubbing his sore elbow. Glancing up at the clock, he saw it was already half past eight. Panicking, as he only had twenty minutes to get to school, Harry pulled on his scuffed shoes, grabbed his battered rucksack and ran out the door.

He made his way down the quiet streets of the town, occasionally glimpsing children in the same uniform as him, and sometimes even big children dressed in grey uniforms from the local comprehensive, Stonewall High.

Harry turned down Wisteria Walk five minutes later, and waved to old cat-loving Mrs. Figg, who always seemed to be watching him from her window when he walked past for school. He grinned as he spotted the tabby on her knee.

The primary school was on the next street, Magnolia Crescent. Harry could already hear the sounds of children screaming and laughing in the playground before school started. Realizing that he wasn't going to be late after all, Harry slowed down, feeling the nervous knot in his stomach increase at the thought of seeing his classmates again.

He watched the cars drove past him, filled with parents dropping their children off at school. He sighed as he spotted Dudley being driven past him by Aunt Petunia, his fat face pressed gleefully against the window. Small kids and their mothers walked by him, and Harry saw some of his classmates from last years, as well as a few new faces. The day seemed to brighten slightly. Perhaps he could make friends with them before they heard all the nasty rumours about him. Him and his scar.

He heard one of the teachers blow a whistle and all the children trooped inside, chatting happily. Harry kept his head low as he walked along the corridors, heading for the Year Six classroom. There was a new teacher this year, and everyone surrounding Harry was discussing what he or she would be like. No one paid attention to Harry.

Inside the classroom, the tables had been arranged so that people were sitting in groups of four. There were little cards propped up by each seat, each one with someone's name on.

By the time Harry had found his seat, the other three people on his table were already there. There was a shy but nice looking new boy, who gave him a small smile, and a girl called Judith next to him, who ignored him completely and moaned to her friends on the next table about how she had to sit next to a load of boys.

But it was with a sinking heart that Harry recognised the last occupant of the table. Piers Polkiss, Dudley's second in command, was sitting opposite him, a smug smirk on his face.

Harry sat down, pretending not to notice Piers' gaze. He slung his hand-me-down bag under the desk, as they hadn't been assigned places in the cloakroom yet, and smiled shyly back at the new boy.

For some reason – perhaps the thought of Harry actually having friends – this seemed to infuriate Piers further and he opened his mouth to speak. But before he could say anything, the Year Six teacher arrived in the room and called for quiet. Everyone turned around to face her.

She was quite young. Maybe around thirty, Harry thought, although he wasn't very good at guessing ages. She had dark hair and a friendly smile.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Mrs. Blake. Welcome back for your last year here before you all leave for secondary school. Year six is very important for your future, so I'd like everyone to try hard and help each other as much as you can…"

Harry momentarily stopped listening to the teacher's speech as he noticed Dudley smirking at Piers and the rest of his gang from the other side of the classroom. He sunk down lower in his seat, not noticing the new boy's curious glance.

"…we have to go to assembly in a few minutes and afterwards I'll start trying to learn all your names. But as we have two new students with us, perhaps they'd like to introduce themselves to the rest of you first?"

Harry turned around as the first new student stood up. She was sitting on the other side of the room, on a table made up of girls, two of whom were Judith's friends. Judith scowled at her as she stood up.

"Um, my name is Laura Macintosh, and I just moved here from Southampton."

Mrs. Blake smiled at her. "Thank you, Laura."

The girl sat down and Judith's friends smiled at her. One of them gave her a thumbs up. The other girl on the table rolled her eyes as she pushed her light red, almost orange hair behind her eyes. Harry sat up a little. Anne Thornton and her best friends were always useful to have in class. They were constantly arguing with Dudley, which meant Harry didn't normally get beaten up that day.

The teacher wheeled round and she gestured for the boy on Harry's table to speak.

He stood up slowly and smiled at the rest of the class, absently stretching his freckled nose. "My name is Charles, but everyone except my nana calls Charlie. I like to play football."

"Thanks, Charlie." Mrs. Blake checked her watch and gasped in surprise. "Come along, everybody, we don't want to be late for assembly on the first day!"

* * *

Harry sat alone on a neglected bench in the corner of the playground. Most of the students had school dinners, so they were still inside in the dinner hall. Harry brought packed lunches which they were allowed to eat outside. He considered this a blessing as it meant he didn't have to put up with the embarrassment of having no one to sit next to.

It hadn't been a _bad_ morning, he thought. After assembly, everyone had introduced themselves to Mrs. Blake, and even though Dudley's gang and a few of the other boys had sniggered as he stood up, they hadn't done it too loudly. The rest of the morning had been spent giving out books and assigning people places in the cloakroom, so Dudley had only managed to trip him up twice. No. Not bad at all.

He unzipped his lunchbox, that had once belonged to Dudley, and pulled out a squashed, slightly dry sandwich, that had probably also been leftover from Dudley's back to school tea. Sighing, he bit into it.

A shadow fell over him and he glanced up. The new boy, Charlie, was standing above him, grinning widely.

"Hello!" he said brightly to Harry.

"Hello," replied Harry quietly.

The boy's grin faded slightly. "You're Harry, right?"

Harry frowned up at him, puzzled. "How did you know that?" he asked.

Charlie grinned again and sat down at the other end of the bench. He had short hair that stuck up nearly as bad as Harry's did.

"I wondered were you were, so I asked Anne. She said that you usually ate out here when the weather's good."

"Oh." Harry said. They collapsed in an awkward silence. Harry was quite pleased that Charlie seemed to want to be his friend, but he couldn't think of a thing to say. Instead, he pretended he was fascinated by the Year Six boys who had finished lunch and had started up a game of football on the sports field.

"Sooo…" Charlie said. Then he noticed the direction of Harry's gaze, and his chubby face brightened. "Do you like football?"

"Um…not really."

"Oh."

Charlie slumped back against the bench and fidgeted for a couple of minutes. It was obvious that he was trying to think up something else to break the silence.

A couple of minutes passed in uncomfortable quiet, and Harry ate some more of his sandwich, for want of something to do. Then one of their classmates, Adam, jogged up.

"Hey, new boy," he said to Charlie, who looked up inquisitively. "Do you like football?"

"Yes…" said Charlie, resolutely not looking at Harry.

"Well, will you play for us? We're a player short."

Charlie gave one of his grins. "Ok! Harry, are you sure you don't want to play too? It'll be fun!"

Adam looked down, as if only just realizing that Harry was there. A sneer appeared on his face.

"Um," said Harry, flicking a questioning look at Adam, who glowered back him.

"Don't worry, _Harry_, I wouldn't want you to play if you were the last person on earth." He said viciously. Charlie blinked, confused.

"what's wrong with-" he began, but Adam interrupted.

"Do you want to play with us or not?"

"Of course I do!"

And without another glance at Harry, both of them ran off towards the field.

Harry put his sandwich down. He could feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes and blinked furiously. It was bad enough that he couldn't think of a single thing to say to the new boy, who had actually been nice to him. He was _not_ going to make it worse by crying!

"Don't worry about him." Said a quiet voice. He looked up to see Anne standing there. She put a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Its your cousin I'd worry about."

She pointed across the playground, where Dudley and his gang were standing, looking at him menacingly.

Harry sighed, and changed his mind. No matter how well the morning had gone, today was definitely going to be a bad day.

* * *

Please review! I'd love it know what people think about primary school fics. 


	2. The Second Day

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Thanks to the few people who reviewed. I really appreciate all your comments, good or bad.

Chapter Two: The Second Day

* * *

"Anne?"

"Yes, miss."

"Judith?"

"Here!"

"Harry?"

There was silence, in which Dudley and his gang exchanged smug glances.

"Has anyone seen Harry today?"

Anne was biting her lip as she put up her hand. "Mrs Blake, I saw him walking down the road. But he didn't come in with the rest of us."

"Thank you, Anne." Mrs Blake said, her sharp eyes not missing Dudley and his friends. I think I will stay here while you all go to assembly and see if he comes in."

* * *

Harry winced as he hung his battered school bag up in the cloakroom. The places where Dudley had punched him outside school that morning had already bruised painfully.

He made his way down the corridors quickly – it was already quarter past nine, which meant he was ten minutes late. Aunt Petunia had made him water her begonias before he left for school. The other children in his class were probably already in assembly.

Sure enough, when he got to the classroom, only Mrs Blake was there. She looked up when he entered and raised her eyebrows.

"Not a very good start to the year, is it Harry? Being late on your second day back?"

Harry dropped Dudley's discarded pencil case on the table, next to Charlie's lime green one. He blinked up at the teacher.

"I'm sorry, miss. I didn't mean to be."

She frowned and walked over to him, bending down so that she was at his eye level.

"Why are you late, Harry? Couldn't your parents drop you off in time?"

She looked at with barely disguised curiosity as the unusually small boy dropped his gaze to the floor, shifting from foot to foot. Mrs Blake had been watching her new class keenly the day before, and it was this particular pupil that intrigued her the most.

"No, I walk to school," he replied quietly. "I probably just lost track of the time."

"Well, then. I won't do anything this time, but if you're late again, I'm going to have to keep you in at playtime. Do you understand?"

"Yes, miss."

"Very well. I think you should just choose a book off the shelf and do some reading. The others will be back in about ten minutes – there's no point in you going to assembly now."

Harry nodded in relief. He crossed the room and pulled a off a book at random.

As he made his way back to his table Mrs Blake watched him covertly from behind her lesson plans. She had seen him belittled and taunted by Dudley yesterday from the staffroom window, and wondered why the teacher on playground duty had done nothing to stop him.

And the inquiries she had made with the other teachers had done nothing to sooth her curiosity. The other teachers hinted that she should watch out for him, that even though he was quiet, he was a bad troublemaker.

The headmistress had not been as subtle. "He'll turn out to be no good, you mark my words." she had boomed, her face going an odd shade of puce. "I caught him on the roof of the kitchens last year, and do you know what he said? He said that the wind must have caught him! Honestly. What a burden he must be to a good family like his!"

But before Mrs Blake had a chance to ask about Harry's family, the headmistress had gone, leaving her to wonder about the frail boy.

And now, as he sat staring resolutely staring at his reading book, even as the rest of his class filed in, she didn't know what to think.

So as she called for quiet, reprimanded Dudley for pinching Anne, and complimented Caroline's painting of a cat, she forcefully put it out of her mind. No, she decided. It's none of my business.

* * *

"Now, class, in Art and Crafts this term, we're going to be working with clay. I've decided, since this is such a hard project, that you are going to be working in pairs. So while I go and pick up the clay, you can all choose a partner. And don't let it get too noisy!"

Mrs Blake left the room and Harry felt a desperate knot in his stomach. He hated working in pairs or groups, because he was always the last to be picked, the last result.

He looked across the table, but Charlie was avoiding his gaze, looking over to where Adam was sitting. Adam ignored him, chatting happily to a friend from another table.

Charlie sighed and looked towards at Harry, still not meeting his eyes.

"Will you be my partner, then?" Harry asked him.

"Yeah, I suppose so," he replied grudgingly.

Piers sniggered at them from the other half of the table. "Only freaks work with Harry. He creeps normal people out."

Charlie flushed red and opened his mouth. For a moment, Harry brightened; convinced Charlie was going to Piers. But then the sandy haired boy sank down in his seat and muttered, "I don't _want_ to work with him."

Piers smirked at Harry in triumph. "See, Harry?" he said smugly. "_No_ _one_ wants to be your friend."

Harry looked away from both of the boys, blinking furiously as Mrs Blake came back into the classroom, carrying a big plastic bag full of clay.

"Has everyone got a partner?" she asked as she set the bag down on Anne's table. Harry wasn't sure if he'd imagined her eyes flicking towards him, as if she expected him to be alone. He looked away. One of the other teachers had probably told her about him – about how he never had any friends.

A few minutes later, Charlie and Harry were handed a lump of clay.

"So," said Charlie, "what should we make?" Harry shrugged, slumping in his seat, still smarting from Piers' comment. Piers himself had gone to sit with Dudley, so a frizzy haired girl called Cassie was sitting in his place, working with Judith. The two girls made no attention to either of them.

"I don't mind." Harry replied quietly.

"Look…" said Charlie. "I'm sorry about what happened yesterday, and what I said to Piers. I didn't really mean it; I just wanted to make some friends."

"It's ok," said Harry. "You're not the first one that's done it."

Charlie smiled easily at him. "Great! Because you seem nice, nicer than Adam anyway. I'd rather be friends with you than him. Now…we should probably roll out this clay…"

"OK."

They both picked up rolling pins.

"I saw that Dudley Dursley bullying you yesterday. Is that why you were late this morning?"

"Yes."

"He really seems to have it in for you."

"I know. He's my cousin."

"What!? Are you serious?"

"Yes. Why would I lie?"

"I don't know. Still, I can hardly believe that. Dudley looks nothing like you!"

"Mm. I know."

Charlie looked puzzled. "I thought he would be nice to you though, 'cos you're family. I mean, wouldn't your parents find out, and tell his parents?"

"No. I…don't live with my parents. I live with Dudley and his mum and dad."

"Oh, I'm sorry. It must be horrible, living with a fattie like that. Are your aunt and uncle fat?"

"My uncle is," Harry said and thy both grinned.

"Hey!" exclaimed Charlie a few minutes later. "Harry, would you like to come to tea at my house?"

"Oh…sorry Charlie, I can't. My aunt doesn't let me go to other peoples houses." Harry said sadly.

Charlie sighed. "That's so unfair. Well, shall we go to the park after school instead?"

Harry grinned back at him and nodded.

Things were looking up.

* * *

When reading through this chapter, I decided Harry was a bit too happy. So in the next chapter, a bit of time will have passed and I shall hopefully be inflicting some nice angst on Harry. Until then…

…please review!!!!!!


	3. The Invitation

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A big thank you to everyone who reviewed. Unless I get my act together over the weekend, this will probably be the last update for a few weeks, as I am going back to school on Tuesday. It's the start of GCSEs, so I'll probably be extremely busy.

This chapter is for Charlie the cat. I'm so sorry, Wizzy!

"So, where are your parents, then?" asked Charlie, as he and Harry walked slowly out the school gates and down Magnolia Crescent.

Harry looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I thought you said you lived with the Dursleys?"

"Yes. Well, my parents are dead. They died in a car crash when I was a baby, that's how I got this scar."

"Oh! Sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's ok, really. I'm used to it now."

They walked in silence around the corner, into Magnolia Road, and headed for the play park. It was full of children, the younger ones sticking close to their mothers, the older ones huddled in little groups, chatting and laughing.

Harry scanned the play park worriedly, but neither Dudley nor any of his friends were there. He gave a quick sigh of relief. The only people from Harry's class there were Anne and her three friends, two boys and a girl, sitting on the swings. She spotted Harry and Charlie and waved them over.

"Hello, Harry!"

Her pale, orange hair was braided into two thin plaits, each tied with a red ribbon, the same colour as her bright school jumper. It clashed horribly, but she didn't seem to care.

Anne and the others smiled at them, and the boy on the swing next to her glanced curiously at Charlie.

"You're that new boy, aren't you? The one that was playing striker yesterday."

Charlie nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, that was me!"

The boy gave a grin, and Harry noticed he was resting his feet on a football. "You were really good! Want to play?"

Charlie started to reply, then caught himself and tuned to Harry. "You don't mind, do you?"

Harry shook his head.

"Great! I'm Nick, by the way."

Nick, Charlie and Anne's other friend ran off into the overgrown field that surrounded the playpark. Anne rolled her eyes at her friend, Kiera.

"Well, that's the last we'll see of them today." She said. She gestured to the empty swing that Nick had been sitting on.

"Harry, are you going to sit down, or just stand there all day?"

Harry, who had been leaning rather uncomfortably against the brightly painted swing frame, sat down eagerly, and then realized that he was in between the two girls. He fidgeted awkwardly.

"I'm glad you're here, Harry," said Anne. "I've got something here for you."

She reached down and unzipped her blue backpack. After searching for a moment, she sat up triumphantly and handed him an envelope decorated with stars and spiralling patterns. Someone – probably one of her parents - had written _Harry Potter _in fancy copperplate writing on the front Harry took it from her with an inquisitive look. She grinned at Kiera and then back at him.

"Open it. And stop looking so worried, you idiot. It isn't going to explode!"

Harry turned the envelope over and opened it carefully, trying not to rip any of the pictures. Inside there was a small card decorated in the same pattern as the envelope. He opened it.

_Dear Harry, _it read,

_You are invited to my birthday party this Saturday. We will be going to the seaside for the day and then everyone will come back to mine for a sleepover. _

_Please can you come to my house at 10 am and then get picked up on Sunday at midday. Bring a sleeping bag, toothbrush, pyjamas and anything else you feel like bringing!_

_My address:_

_7 Tulip Lane_

_Little Whinging _

_My phone number is 3269 4894 _

_Hope you can come!_

_Anne xxx_

Harry looked up in disbelief. "You want me to come to your party?"

"Yes."

"But why?!"

"Well, because we've decided we that you're nice, Harry. Charlie, too. I'll give him his invite when they've finished playing footie. Anyway, it'll annoy Dudley. _He's _definitely not invited. So, can you come?"

Harry bit his lip and turned his attention back to the letter. On the few occasions kids had invited him to their parties, Aunt Petunia had only let him go if she had no chores for him to do, which hadn't been very often. And seeing as Dudley hadn't been invited, Harry was sure she wouldn't let him go. It wouldn't be fair on her precious Diddydums, after all.

"I'm not sure…"

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN, BOY?" yelled Uncle Vernon the moment Harry stepped through the door. His face was an admirable shade of purple.

"I-"

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA THE EXTRA AMOUNT OF WORK YOUR AUNT'S HAD TO DO, YOU UNGRATEFUL SWINE? _WHERE HAVE YOU_ _BEEN?"_

Harry scowled. "At the playground, Aunt Petunia said she didn't have anything for me to do, so I thought you wouldn't mind!"

Uncle Vernon breathed in sharply, his moustache fluttering. He opened his mouth to start yelling again, when his wife opened in the doorway. Her thin lips were pursed and Harry thought fleetingly of a horse.

"Well, now you're here, boy, you better help with the cooking." She hissed at him, her nostrils flaring. "Hurry up; Diddy's roast potatoes might be burning."

Harry dropped his bag and tried to ignore Dudley's gloating smile as he walked past into the kitchen. Half an hour, they were all sitting around the dinner table, eating pork chops and very crispy roast potatoes.

Pushing his last potato around his plate, Harry dithered about how to tell Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia about the invitation from Anne. No time like the present, he decided, as Uncle Vernon paused in his monologue about drill sales.

"Um, Uncle Vernon? Can I ask you something?"

"What?" his uncle grunted grumpily. "I thought we taught you not to ask questions."

Harry ignored this last comment. "Uncle Vernon, I've been invited to Anne's party this weekend, and I was wondering-"

"A party?" his uncle blinked piggy eyes at him, and then turned to Dudley. "Dudders, do you know anything about a party?"

Dudley smirked maliciously at Harry. "No, Dad. I bet he's making it up."

Aunt Petunia's eyes narrowed and she laid down her knife and fork. "Oh, honestly, don't waste our time-"

"No! It's true; I have been invited to a party!" Harry quickly pulled the envelope out of his pocket and showed it to his uncle. "Look, here's an invite!"

"Well then, why wasn't our Dudders invited?"

"Because-" Harry stopped himself before he could say anything else. But it was too late.

Uncle Vernon leant closer to him. "Because what, boy?" he hissed menacingly.

"Nothing!"

"You were going to say something!"

Aunt Petunia grabbed his arm and shook it. Her nails were digging into his arm enough for it to hurt. Harry pulled away from her and stared down at his plate, food abandoned.

"Dudley wasn't invited because…because Anne doesn't really like him."

Aunt Petunia gasped and reached over to hug Dudley. Uncle Vernon looked ready to explode.

"YOU LITTLE LIAR!" he exclaimed, pointing a chubby finger threateningly at Harry. "HOW COULD ANYONE NOT LIKE MY DUDDERS!?"

"But-"

"YOU UNGRATEFUL BRAT!"

"It wasn't m-"

"GO TO YOUR CUPBOARD!"

"But-"

"NOW!"

"Hey, Harry!"

Harry entered the classroom the next day with only a few seconds to spare. By some miracle, Mrs Blake wasn't there yet. Charlie was waving to him from their table. Nick was sitting in Harry's place, with Anne standing next to him. He stood up as Harry approached.

"So, can you come to my party?" Anne asked him. He shook his head sadly as he gazed at his shoes.

"I'm sorry Anne, but my aunt and uncle won't let me, especially since my cousin wasn't invited."

"Oh. Right." A strange look passed across her face, as if she didn't quite believe him. Then it was replaced by disappointment. "Never mind."

And as he and Charlie ate with Anne, Nick and the others that lunchtime, it did seem like she was ok with it, that they all were. But was it his imagination, or were they all treating him a little colder than before?

Decided to tone down the angst. A_ lot_. Please read and review.


	4. Monday Morning Blues

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Many thanks to all the people who reviewed. I'm sorry this took so long to upload. I wish I hadn't chosen to do so much science – I have two to three hours a day of Biology, Chemistry and Physics, and they are really piling on the homework. But never mind – I always find time for fanfiction!

Chapter Four: Monday Morning Blues

Harry sat silently at the kitchen table with the three Dursleys, spooning cornflakes into his mouth gloomily.

They had hardly said anything to him in the five days since the fiasco with the invitation, but since that meant they weren't ordering him to do chores, Harry wasn't going to complain. He decided to be grateful they hadn't locked him in his cupboard, and had allowed him to go to school.

But even school had not been a very good escape. Anne and all the others invited to her party had spent the whole of Friday chatting about the party and how much fun it was going to be. They had not really spoken to Harry at all, not even to defend him from Dudley and his friends.

Harry was now pretty sure than this last year at primary school was going to turn out as bad as all the others. His brief friendship with Charlie, Anne and her friends was going to end before it had really started.

He swallowed he last of his soggy cornflakes and slowly stacked his bowl in the new dishwasher. Harry knew he was procrastinating about getting to school, but he really didn't want to see the other children. He knew they would be too busy swapping stories to talk to him.

He turned and made his way out of the kitchen, ignoring the horrible face Dudley was pulling at him and picking up the carrier bag with his homework and pencil case in it.

The hand-me-down rucksack he had been using had spilt on his way home from school, and Aunt Petunia, after refusing to buy another one, had started to sew it back together. Until she had finished, Harry was stuck with an old Sainsbury's bag.

He opened the front door and a strong gust of wind hit him, nearly blowing him backwards. It was only the middle of September, but it was already bitterly cold and windy.

Tugging his overly large school jumper to him, he started off down the street.

But as Harry turned onto Wisteria Walk, he heard the ominous rumbling of thunder and rain started to pour down around him.

* * *

"It was a great party, Anne. I'm glad the weather wasn't like this when we were at the seaside!"

Harry heard the exclamations before he had even walked through the classroom door.

He had run the rest of the way to school, and spent the few minutes before assembly in the boys' toilet, his head under the hand dryer, trying to dry off. His clothes were still sopping but his hair was a bit dryer. He still looked like an idiot.

He scowled as he entered the classroom, running a cold hand through his dry but matted and clumpy hair. Now his classmates had yet another excuse to laugh at him. He looked around to see everyone else looking reasonably dry. God forbid the Dursleys should let him borrow an umbrella.

As he made his way over to his table, he saw Anne, a friend of Nick's called Adie, and Nick himself were gathered there already, talking to Charlie enthusiastically. He took a steadying breath as he walked over.

"And, ok, so we probably shouldn't have been watching that movie, it _was_ a fifteen, but- whoa, Harry. What happened to you?" gasped Anne as she took in his bedraggled appearance.

"Nothing much," he mumbled, not meeting her eyes. "I was walking to school, and I just got caught in the rain."

Anne raised her eyebrows, and nodded over to where Dudley and Piers were sitting, both of them perfectly dry. Charlie caught the hint.

"But I thought you said Dudley was your cousin? Didn't you get lift to school with him?"

Harry ignored the questions and their curious gazes. He got his soaking wet pencil case out of the torn carrier bag as he tried to think up a good reply without lying too much.

He was struggling.

Fortunately, Harry was saved from answering with the arrival of Mrs Blake. Anne, Adie and Nick scattered and went to sit down at their various tables, all of them still glancing over at him curiously.

He thought he had imagined worry in Anne's expression, and when he risked a look at Charlie he saw the same expression mirrored there. Harry felt a strange sense of satisfaction.

"Good morning, class!" chirped Mrs Blake as she weaved between the tables towards her desk.

"Good morning, Mrs Blake!" they chanted back to her.

She sat down behind her desk and took out the register. Harry slumped lower in his seat as she spoke, just hearing the laughter of Malcolm and Gordon, two of Dudley's gang.

His pale face involuntarily flushed bright red and he blinked furiously as he realised they were not the only ones laughing. Adam and his friend, Danny, were sniggering quietly with the other boys on their table and pointing towards him.

"Anne?"

"Yes, Mrs Blake."

"Judith?"

"Yes, miss."

"Harry?"

"Yes, miss," he mumbled as quietly as he could, trying not to attract attention to himself.

It didn't seem to work. Mrs Blake looked up and frowned.

"Didn't you bring an umbrella?" she asked, looking puzzled.

"No, I…I forgot it."

"That was a bit silly, don't you think? Never mind. Do you need to borrow a towel from First aid to dry off a bit? I'm sure one of the receptionists could find you one."

"I think I'll be alright, miss."

"If you insist. We'd better be off to assembly, then."

The day passed achingly slowly for Harry. He kept to himself and none of his 'friends' seemed to mind much– he had been right all they could think about was Anne's party. He felt unwanted tears pricking his eyes as he thought of them having fun while he stayed in his cupboard at the Dursleys.

Nick, normally silent, had come out of his bubble for a moment and had a rare instant of friendliness in which he asked Harry to sit with him and Adie at lunch. Harry politely refused - he didn't know Adie very well, but he had a reputation as a trouble maker - and decided to eat in the empty playground, despite the fact that the benches were still wet.

He avoided everyone for the rest of the day, and the moment school was over he ran for it, feeling more alone than ever.

* * *

Dinner that evening was a quiet affair. Harry and his aunt and uncle were still not speaking to each other. Dudley was trying to get a whole pork chop in his mouth at once.

As Harry cleared the dishes from the table, Uncle Vernon cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence.

"So, Petunia darling, is everything ready for next week?"

"Yes, dear," she replied as she got up to make him a cup of tea. "Everything's fine."

Harry risked a tentative glance at Dudley, who was grinning at him nastily, smirking as if to show that he knew exactly what was going on. Harry scowled back at him and turned to Uncle Vernon.

"Um, Uncle Vernon, what's happening next week?"

He bit his lip as his uncle's eyes narrowed, like they did every time Harry dared to ask a question.

"Next week, boy, your Aunt Marge will be coming to stay with us-"

Harry dropped a plate noisily. "WHAT?!"

Uncle Vernon ignored him. "- and I expect you to be on your best behaviour. Marge will be here for two weeks, and I don't want you to embarrass me. Oh, and she'll be bringing Ripper with her. I'm sorry, Petunia," he said as his wife sniffed disapprovingly. "But you know _that dog_ pines if he's away from her for too long!"

Harry noticed grumpily that Uncle Vernon used the same tone to describe Ripper as he did when he was talking about Harry.

He left the room moodily, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Yes, it's shorter than normal, but it's still a chapter! Please review :-) 


	5. Aunt Marge

I'm so sorry, it's been so long since I updated! I've just been so busy with school, I've hardly had any time to write, and I've been trying to think out a plot for a Lily/Severus challenge. I apologize for any typos in this chapter; I just wanted to get it posted before it drove me crazy. As always, a big thank you to everyone who reviewed.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter Five: Aunt Marge

* * *

Harry sat slumped at his school desk, a pencil in hand, idly poking holes in the piece of scrap paper in front of him. Outside, rain lashed savagely against the windows, even harder than it had on Monday, and a roll of thunder tore through the sky. Judith and her friends squealed manically. Harry scowled and stabbed another hole in the paper.

It was playtime on Friday morning, but the weather was so bad everyone had been made to stay in their classrooms. Mrs Blake and the teaching assistant were sitting at her desk, drinking coffee and chatting. Harry noticed her gaze flicker worriedly towards him once or twice. He stared back down at the table and pretended to be very busy drawing.

"What's up with you today, Harry?" asked Anne, drifting over from her table to talk to him. Nick stood silently by her shoulder, watching her as she spoke.

"Nothing." He mumbled, not meeting her eyes.

"Exactly! Come over here and talk to us!"

She had been sitting at a table with Adie, Charlie, Kiera and Nick, who were all laughing and talking enthusiastically. He had hardly spoken to them for the whole week, despite their fervent efforts to involve him in their games and conversations.

He stared at them, and before he could look away, Charlie had caught his eye and was smiling at him. Harry found himself smiling back.

"Ok," he said to Anne. "If you insist."

He put down his pencil and walked over with her to the others. Charlie grinned at him in relief.

"Finally!" he exclaimed, and Nick laughed as he took a seat beside Anne.

"Charlie thought you were never going to talk to us again, Harry," Nick explained. "So did I, actually."

"Yeah, Harry, what's up?" asked Anne. "Don't think it's because you couldn't come to my party, I understand about that. I was just disappointed, that's all."

"Oh." Said Harry. "I thought you were all angry at me."

Kiera rolled her eyes. "We're not angry, are we?"

Anne, Nick and Charlie shook their heads. Kiera turned to Adie. "_Are, we, _Adie?"

Adie shrugged, avoiding Anne's sharp gaze. He stood up and turned to leave them. "I'm going to plan Monday's football teams with Adam and Danny. Wanna come, Charlie?"

"No thanks, Adie. I'm just gonna stay here. Playtime'll be over in a minute or two anyway, so there's no point."

"Fine. What about you, Nick?"

"I'm staying too."

Adie scowled and walked over to where Adam and his group of friends were sitting. Anne stuck her pointed tongue out at his back.

"Stupid oaf. Ignore him, Harry. We'd rather hang around with you than him. Adie's been really mean this year."

Harry nodded and fidgeted in his seat. Finally he burst out with what he had wanted to say for a while.

"Why, though?"

"Why what, Harry?"

"I mean, why are you suddenly being all friendly with me? You barely talked to me at all last year, and now you're all acting like we're best friends. I don't understand!"

Anne bit her lip. "Sorry, Harry. We would've liked to have been friends with you before, but you know what Dudley's friends are like. They wouldn't have let us."

"They wouldn't let you now!"

"Yes, they would. Dudley's hardly paid any attention to you at all so far this year, haven't you noticed? Now we're the oldest kids in the school, he can get away with bullying the younger ones. And Dudley may be stupid, but Piers isn't. He's noticed Mrs Blake's been keeping an eye on you this year. He wouldn't do anything while she's around."

"Well, I hope you're right."

"Of course I am! But you don't seem any happier, Harry. Is something else the matter?"

"Well, my Aunt is coming to stay for a couple of weeks…"

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Not really. Actually, not at all. She's my uncle's sister, and she hates me even more than my Aunt and Uncle do, and that's saying something. Every time she comes she says I'm turning into an even worse scoundrel than my dad was."

"What did your dad do?" said Nick, looking curious.

"No idea. How would _I_ know? I never met him, he died when I was a baby, and you do know that, Dudley told everyone in year three."

"But don't your aunt and uncle tell you about him? Or your mum?" asked Anne.

"Nope. None of my relatives ever talk about my dad, apart from to tell me how bad he was, and how I'll go the same way as him some day. I think they blame him for my mum dying."

"That's horrible!"

"I've gotten used to it."

"Oh, Harry…"

"Forget I said it. I told you… I'm used to it."

* * *

Harry lay in his cupboard, listening to the rhythmic pounding of the rain on the roof of 4 Privet Drive. He guessed it was about half six – there was no clock in his cupboard, but he could hear the quiet chiming of the grandfather clock in the living room. Aunt Marge would be arriving any moment now. He had never dreaded one of her visits more.

He heard the timer of the cooker go off and, groaning heavily, sat up, anticipating Aunt Petunia's summons.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, he heard her call to him. "Boy? Get down here and lay the table! Marge'll be here any second now!"

He pushed his cupboard door open and walked into the kitchen. Dudley was sitting at the kitchen table, while Aunt Petunia fussed around him, arranging napkins into fancy patterns. For once Dudley didn't say anything to them – he was busy eating a large slice of chocolate cake. Harry pulled a face at his back as he picked up the silver cutlery his aunt had polished that afternoon.

He thought back to what Anne had said, about Dudley leaving him alone. It wasn't that true. Dudley had beaten him up twice this year and was forever teasing him at home. But, Harry decided, he didn't mind as much. It was nice having friends and he didn't want to lose them because of a few bruises.

Besides, he thought, in July he would be leaving Little Whinging's primary school and going to Stonewall Secondary, the local comprehensive. That was where most of the students from his school would be allocated a place, unless their parents had enough money to send their children away to a private school like Smeltings, where Dudley was going. That meant he would still have his new friends and he would only have to see Dudley on holidays. Paradise.

Just as he was finishing, the doorbell rang loudly. Harry could hear the booming voices of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Marge as they stood outside. He could also hear Ripper's ferocious growling, and gulped. Ripper liked him even less than Aunt Marge.

"Boy! Open the door!"

Harry made his way to the front door, flattening his hair as he went. He braced himself and opened the door.

Aunt Marge barrelled straight past him into the kitchen, Ripper at her heels. She kissed Aunt Petunia on the cheek and bared her yellow teeth in what Harry supposed was a smile.

"Petunia, darling, how lovely to see you! Horrible weather, isn't it?"

She had left two massive suitcases in the hall, and Uncle Vernon glared at Harry and pointed at them. Understanding, Harry moved over to them and tried to pick one up. They were unbelievably heavy, and Harry stumbled as he dragged one across the hall. The sound alerted Aunt Marge to his presence. She turned and squinted at him with her beady eyes, the three Dursleys gathered around her.

"Runty little thing, isn't he? Just like his father."

Harry pretended to ignore her and turned away, trying to hide the red blush staining his pale cheeks. Aunt Marge snorted and swept into the living room, the three Dursleys trailing behind her.

Harry was left alone in the hallway, surrounded by Aunt Marge's luggage. He didn't mind.

He was used to it now.

* * *

Please leave a review:) I love hearing from you. 


	6. Ripper's Revenge

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Another update! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter (Wiz, you owe me). I hope you enjoy this, as I'm neglecting my English coursework to write it. As always, please read and review!

Chapter Six: Ripper's Revenge

* * *

The four Dursleys sat around the kitchen table, Ripper guarding the back of Aunt Marge's chair and growling at Harry, whom he seemed to dislike. Aunt Marge had a sherry glass in one hand. She waved it jovially at Aunt Petunia.

"Delicious nosh, Petunia. Vernon and Dudders are so lucky to have you!" Aunt Marge shot Harry a nasty look. "And you should be more grateful, young man. If I was Petunia I certainly wouldn't put up with you."

Harry, standing by the kitchen counter, ignored her and carried on chopping up leftover chicken for Ripper's dinner. His own dinner, two thick slices of bread and some ham, sat waiting beside him. He eyed it hungrily. Ripper growled again.

He finished chopping the meat as the Dursleys moved outside onto the patio. He tipped the chicken into Ripper's bowl and placed it in front of the bulldog. Then he picked up his own meal and sat down alone at the kitchen table. The rain from last week had stopped, and a weak autumn sun was struggling out from behind the grey clouds.

"Beautiful Garden, Petunia!" he could hear Aunt Marge shouting tipsily from outside. "Absolutely stunning! Can't imagine how hard you must work!"

Harry snorted in amusement as his aunt thanked her. After all, it was him that did all of the hard work. Still, he thought, only tonight, and then she's leaving. He gave an involuntary grin at the thought as he swallowed his last piece of bread and stood up quickly, wanting to make it to the sanctuary of his room before the Dursleys came back inside.

But as he hurried over to the dishwasher, he felt his foot connect with something soft.

Something soft and brown.

Something soft and brown and furry.

Ripper gave a yelp of pain and rounded on Harry.

"Oh dear." Harry breathed. Ripper took a step closer. Harry dropped his plate, which shattered with an almighty crash, and fled.

He ran out the back door, across the patio and passed the Dursleys, who hadn't moved to stop Ripper as the bulldog followed him. They mustn't have realised what's happening, Harry thought. Otherwise they would come and help me.

He glanced desperately around the garden, Ripper hot on his heels. There was nowhere to hide – but then he caught a glimpse of the old oak tree in by the gate, and sped towards it.

The tree had plenty of low hanging branches, took a flying leap - and he was safe, up in the tree, Ripper howling before, angry flecks of white in his eyes.

He looked over at the Dursleys, alerted by the sound of laughing. Aunt Marge was cherry red with mirth, and Dudley had half sunk to the ground, holding onto his mother for support. He waited, crouched uncomfortably in the tree, for them to stop.

When Aunt Marge's face had reverted to its normal purple, and she was only hiccupping, he called out to her.

"Aunt Marge? I accidentally stood on Ripper's paw. Do you think you could get him to leave me alone?"

She smiled nastily at him. "He'll stop when he gets bored, or hungry."

She tuned away from him and shuffled back inside, beckoning for Harry's aunt and uncle to follow. Dudley moved slightly closer to Harry, keeping a good distance away from Ripper. He too had a nasty smirk on his face, and Harry knew he wouldn't get any help from his cousin.

"Wait till I tell everyone at school about this, Harry! I bet those _friends _of yours won't want to hang out with someone so stupid. I know I wouldn't!"

Harry listened with a sinking heart. He watched as Dudley followed his parents back into the house. Then, trying to ignore the growling beneath him, he shifted into a comfier position and started to wait.

* * *

"Guess what!" exclaimed Anne, the moment Harry walked into the classroom that Monday. Aunt Marge had finally called off Ripper at around midnight, but there were still bits of leaf in Harry's hair and huge dark circles under his eyes.

"What?" Harry asked, slumping into his seat. Anne was sitting on the desk beside Charlie, Nick hovering behind her, silent as ever.

"My mum's going to have another baby!" she exclaimed. "That means we'll need a bigger house, so we're going to move onto Magnolia Avenue. The road next to yours!"

Harry sat up in excitement, tiredness forgotten.

"Really?!"

"_Yes_, Harry!" she was practically bouncing where she sat. "Isn't that great? Nick lives on Wisteria Walk, so we'll all be able to walk to school together. It'll be fantastic!"

Charlie rolled his eyes at Harry. "I'm glad it's you who'll have to put up with her. I don't think I could. _Hey!_"

He rubbed his arm where Anne had pinched him. "There was no need for that, Anne."

Nick ripped his gaze away from Anne to frown at Harry. "Why are there twigs in your hair?" he asked, looking bemused. Anne leant closer.

"Hey, there are! Why, Harry?"

Harry reached up and ran a hand through his hair. "I stood on the paw of my aunt's dog, so it chased me and I had to climb a tree to escape it. Then it wouldn't go away, so I had to stay up there for hours."

Anne bit her lip. "Harry, that's awful! Didn't your Aunt and Uncle stop it?"

"Er, no."

He turned towards the door as he caught the sound of Dudley's voice, mixed with the sound of his gang's laughter.

"…and then he had to stay in the tree all night, because Ripper wouldn't go away!"

Harry turned back with flaming cheeks as the boys burst into fresh sniggers. Dudley gave Harry a triumphant look as he walked by. Charlie scowled.

"I hate your cousin more than you do."

"I don't think that's possible." Harry replied. "But at least I won't have to put up with him after this year."

"That's right!" said Anne. "He's going to Smeltings, isn't he?"

Harry nodded. "Where are you going, Anne?"

"I don't know. Hopefully I'll get a place at St. Joseph's, up in town. I really don't want to go to Stonewall. It's meant to be really rough, and there's no way I'll get good exam results. Nick doesn't want to go there either."

Harry looked at Charlie. "Where do you want to go?"

Charlie shrugged. "My parents are sending me to a private school; they think all the comprehensives are rubbish. Knowing my luck, I'll probably end up at Smeltings."

"Good morning, class. Please find your seats!"

Mrs Blake had entered the classroom. Anne and Nick quickly walked over to their own tables, and Judith and Piers sat down with Harry and Charlie. One look at Harry sent Piers into another fit of giggles. Judith gave him a scared glance and edged away from him as far as she could.

"I hope everyone had a nice weekend. Now, there's no assembly today, which means we can have some extra PE time! So off you go, get changed. If you can get into the playground before five past nine, I'll let you pick your own teams!"

Harry, Charlie and Nick made their way into the boys changing rooms.

"Can I be on your team, Charlie?"

"Of course, idiot! You don't have to ask." He replied happily to Harry.

"Do you think we should as Adie if he wants to be with us too?" Harry asked.

Adie was watching the three of them from the other side of the room, glaring at Harry. He was sharing a bench with Adam and Danny, who weren't paying much attention to him – they were arguing about the weekend football match they had been to see.

"I don't think so, Harry." said Nick. "He hasn't really been talking to us this week, and besides, he's always hanging around with Adam and his friends. I don't like them. They're almost as bad as Dudley's gang."

"Except they aren't as fat," Charlie added.

"Exactly."

* * *

Hope you enjoyed! Please read and review. :) 


	7. Secondary School

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter Seven

_He twisted and turned fitfully in his sleep. Snippets of memories flashed past before he had a chance see them properly. He could hear someone screaming in the distance, but he was too far away to make out the words. Once he thought he'd seen a motorbike, and heard someone calling his name, but that was impossible. _

_Then came a sudden flash of green light, and he woke. _

Harry sat up shakily. He hadn't had that dream for ages, and he hadn't missed it. It always gave his scar painful twinges the next day. He felt for his glasses, and placed them carefully on the end of his nose. Dudley had been showing off to his gang again, and had punched him in the face yesterday after school. Even copious amounts of tape were not holding his glasses together very well.

About a month had passed since Aunt Marge's visit. It was the middle of November, and already the evenings were dark, and it was getting colder and rainier.

He opened his cupboard door, shook a spider from his hair and padded into the kitchen, trying not to wake the Dursleys – it was only about half six.

Harry poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat down in Dudley's seat at the kitchen table, relishing the absence of his relatives as he sipped at his drink.

It hadn't been a bad month at school, not compared to normal, even though Dudley had been teasing him worse than ever at home. Anne's family had finishing moving into their new house on Magnolia Avenue, so now he had someone to walk to school with, which he liked.

He reached across to Uncle Vernon's place and picked up the letters for him and Dudley that had arrived yesterday. Harry guessed they were probably to do with secondary school allocations.

He felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of spending most of the day away from Dudley, even though it seemed most of his friends would either be going to St. Joseph's or Smeltings.

Dropping Dudley's letter back onto the table, he flipped his over and took in his name, written on the front. He had never been sent a letter before. Unwillingly, he put it back down on the table with Dudley's, finished his glass of orange juice and made his way back to the cupboard.

He closed the cupboard door behind him and started to get dressed for school – it was only half an hour until the Dursleys got up. As he shook a spider off his school jumper, Harry thought about the next year. He _was_ looking forward to being away from Dudley, but secondary school was very different, and a lot harder.

* * *

"Harry! Have you opened your letter?"

Harry turned to see Anne running up behind him, as he stood waiting for her and Nick on the corner of Wisteria Walk. Her hair had already started to escape from its neat ponytail, and her face was flushed red with excitement. She was waving brown envelope similar to the one he had been looking at earlier that morning. He grinned and waved at her.

"Did you get into St. Joseph's?"

"Yeah! So did Keira – I called her before I left."

"Well done," said Harry, but his heart seemed to sink to his stomach. If Nick had also got in to St. Joseph's, he would be all alone at Stonewall Comprehensive.

Anne frowned at his weak smile. "I guess you're off to Stonewall, then?" She sighed as Harry nodded. "I really wish you were coming with us."

"Have you found out where Nick is going?" Harry asked hopefully.

She shook her head. "No, he was going to call me this morning but he never did." She glanced over Harry's shoulder and waved. "But he's here now."

Harry turned around and waved to Nick too as he approached them. His friend didn't look very happy.

"What's up?" Anne asked as he got closer. "You look like your dog just got ran over."

Harry was surprised when Nick didn't glare at her. Instead, the tall boy took a piece of paper from his bag and handed it to Anne with a grimace. She read it and bit her lip.

"Oh, Nick, I'm sorry." She handed the letter to Harry and turned to give Nick a hug. Harry scanned the letter and, in spite of Nick's sadness, felt better. Nick hadn't been allocated a place at St. Joseph's. He would be going to Stonewall with Harry.

He patted Nick's arm as Anne released him from her grasp. "At least you won't be all by yourself. I'm going to Stonewall too."

Nick glanced momentarily at Harry and then turned his attention back to Anne. "I'm sorry. Did Keira get in to St. Joseph's too?"

"Yes, she did. Don't worry; I'm sure I won't miss you too much."

Nick's expression had lightened and he mimed hitting Anne over the head with his rucksack. "Come on, you two, or we'll be late." He pointed to a car that had just driven past. Harry recognised it as Aunt Petunia's. "We can't let your cousin beat us," he said to Harry with a small smile on his face, and the three of them walked quickly to school.

When they entered the classroom, the only topic of conversation was where they would be attending school in September. Charlie looked up from his table, where he was sitting alone, and they walked over to join them.

"Well?" he exclaimed as Harry sat down on the sea opposite him, and Anne and Nick perched on the edge of the table. Nick scowled.

"Is this the only thing anyone's going to talk about for the rest of the day?" he asked Harry, who laughed.

"Probably." He replied.

Charlie reached over the table and poked him in the arm. "You definitely going to Stonewall, then, Harry?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes, Charlie. My aunt and uncle would never send me to Smeltings with Dudley."

Charlie winced. "Please don't remind me, Harry," he said grumpily. "I'd rather not know anyone than have to put up with Dudley and his friends." He looked up at Nick and Anne. "Where did you two get a place?"

"Well, I got into St. Joseph's, but Nick's going to Stonewall with Harry." Anne answered. "Can't you get your parents to change their minds about Smeltings? We won't even be able to meet up with you outside school, 'cos you'll be boarding there for the _whole term_."

Charlie shook his head.

"Good morning, class!" sang Mrs Blake as she walked into the class. "Get into your seats, please."

She took the register and then they all followed her as they walked to the hall. Dudley tripped Harry up as they filed into the hall.

"Don't worry, Harry. Malcolm and Gordon are going to Stonewall too. You won't be all alone. They'll keep you company!"

Harry picked himself up from the floor and turned away from Dudley with his cheeks burning as some of his class walked by and sniggered. He walked away from them and caught up Anne, Nick and Charlie.

"Dudley causing trouble again?" asked Nick in a low voice as they sat down on the wooden floor.

Harry nodded. "But it was nothing, really." He said as he fiddled with the overlong sleeves of his uniform.

Nick raised his eyes, but thankfully he looked away from Harry's worried face, and instead smiled at Anne, who was sitting next to him, and whispered to her quietly.

* * *

That night, Harry walked home through the rain and opened the front door of Number 4 Privet Drive, glad to be out of the cold. The appetising smells of drifted out of the kitchen and he breathed in the fumes gladly. He dumped his bag and shoes by the radiator and stepped into his cupboard to change out of his dripping clothes. In the kitchen, he could hear Aunt Petunia chatting away to Uncle Vernon, but he couldn't hear Dudley. He decided to go into the kitchen and see how long it would be until the pizza was ready.

"At least we haven't heard anything from that school," Aunt Petunia was saying as Harry opened the door and stepped inside. "I was worried-"

She broke off as she caught sight of Harry and swooped down on him, glaring. "I thought we taught you to knock before you entered a room!"

Harry blinked. "You've never said that-"

"GET OUT!" Aunt Petunia screeched at him.

"I only came to see when dinner was-"

"OUT!" Uncle Vernon bellowed. "Leave your poor aunt alone!"

Harry left the kitchen and went back to his cupboard, curious about what his aunt had been saying. But then he got that night's homework out of his bag and put all thoughts of the mysterious school out of his mind.

Please Review :)


	8. Merry Christmas, Harry!

Hey everyone! Thanks for the reviews, especially those I didn't manage to reply to. Thought I'd update now, as tomorrow I'm back to school. :( My last year of compulsory education!

Enjoy, and please review!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

"Merry Christmas, you two!"

Harry and Charlie looked up from their conversation and grinned up at Anne and behind her at Keira.

"Merry Christmas, Anne." Harry replied. "Where's Nick?"

"Ill. He's got a stomach bug, I think." said Anne, pushing her messy orange hair out of her eyes. She sat down next to Charlie and Keira perched on the desk next to her.

"But that means we probably won't see him for a week, and I'm going up to Leeds for Christmas, to visit my auntie. Are any of you going away?"

"I might be going to London, but we still haven't decided," said Keira. "Mum's leaving it a bit late if you ask me. What about you, Harry?"

"Staying here. My Aunt and Uncle wanted to go away to the Lake District for Christmas, but Dudley didn't want to. He says there are too many hills there."

Anne snorted and glanced across the room. "That doesn't surprise me. Bad luck, Harry."

"I'm surprised he can still remember how to walk." Keira said with a giggle.

Mrs Blake entered and the class scattered across the room to their tables. "Good morning, everyone! Only another couple of days to go before the end of term!"

The rest of the class let out a cheer, but Harry frowned. He hated Christmas – the Dursleys never gave him any presents but he was forced to watch as Dudley opened mountains of gifts from his family and friends. At least Aunt Marge wasn't coming to stay this year, after the previous disastrous visit.

They filed into assembly, Harry falling into line as far away from Dudley as he could manage. Afterwards they made their way back into the classroom, chatting loudly. There were no more proper lessons from now on – all they would do for the next two days would be to watch films and play games.

"What are you doing this Saturday?" Charlie asked Anne, Keira and Harry as they sat in the hall eating their lunch. Anne didn't reply at first – she was too busy staring at her lumpy mashed potato in total disgust.

"Why?" asked Keira. "Are you planning something?"

"All my family are coming to stay and we're having a big party on the Saturday. My mum said I could invite a few friends, so I wouldn't get bored. D'you want to come?"

"Yeah!" said Anne enthusiastically. "It sounds fun!"

"I can't come," said Keira gloomily. "Mum says Christmas time is family time, so I won't be allowed out for ages."

"Harry?"

"I'll see. But you know what the Dursleys are like. If Dudley can't go…"

The three of them looked over to the table where Dudley and his friends were sitting. All five of Dudley's friends were stuffing down the lumpy mashed potato at an alarming rate. None of them seemed to mind the taste.

"He is definitely _not_ coming, Harry." said Charlie, wrinkling his nose. "That's _horrible_."

* * *

"Thanks for the lift, Aunt Petunia."

Harry shut the door of his aunt's car and walked up the path to Charlie's front door. He could hardly believe his good luck - Dudley had been invited to Malcolm's house that afternoon and Aunt Petunia had agreed to drop him off at Charlie's house for the party.

He rang the doorbell and then stood back to look at the house. It wasn't as big as the Dursley's, but there was a friendly clutter of toys on the lawn and in one of the upstairs windows he could see a poster of Charlie's favourite football team. He could vaguely hear the chatter of voices and the music through the door.

The door opened and Charlie grinned at him.

"I didn't think you would make it! Keira isn't coming; she's already left for London. Come in, Harry. Everyone else is already here."

Harry followed him through the hallway and into the living room. Most of the other guests were grown ups, but he spotted Anne in the corner, sitting with Nick. She gave him a big smile and waved frantically, almost knocking her paper crown off her hair.

Charlie and Harry joined them. "Feeling better?" Harry asked Nick.

"Not really. Anne bullied me into coming. Ouch!" he exclaimed as Anne poked him in the stomach. "I told you, I still ache!"

"Oh, stop whinging."

They sat there for half an hour chatting. Harry was enjoying himself more than he had imagined. Family occasions at the Dursleys were nothing like this.

"There you are, Charlie!"

The four of them looked up to see a plump woman with brown hair like Charlie's bearing down upon them. She smiled around at them. "I'm Linda. You must be Charlie's new friends. I've been looking forward to meeting you." She untied her pink apron and sat down with them. "Sorry I haven't introduced myself to you yet. I've been busy with the cooking."

"Muuuummm…" Charlie muttered.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"You're embarrassing me!" he wailed. Nick sniggered quietly at him, ignoring a glare from Anne.

"Oh honestly, Charlie, grow up." But she rolled her eyes and stood up. "Food's in the kitchen, kids. Help yourselves." She made her way out of the room.

"Your mum's lovely, Charlie! What are you complaining about?" said Anne. "I wish my family was like yours. Don't you, Harry?"

"hmm." Said Harry. But long after the conversation had moved on, he still thought about what she had said. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than a proper family.

* * *

"Oh, Diddy, you look like an angel!" Aunt Petunia exclaimed as Dudley paraded around the living room in his new clothes.

Harry gave an inaudible snigger at the sight of his cousin, and turned back to the school library book he was reading. It was Christmas morning, but none of his relatives had bothered speaking to him that day – all the attention was being lavished on Dudley. He tried not to care.

Aunt Petunia broke away from the hug she was giving Dudley and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece in horror.

"Oh no!" she cried and hurried from the room to the kitchen. "The Christmas Dinner will be burning!"

She turned back to Harry. "Come and help me with the dinner, boy. All you've done today is sit around. After all we do for you!"

Harry sighed and followed her miserably into the kitchen, where he was greeted by the smell of burning potatoes.

After Christmas dinner, he made his way unnoticed back to his cupboard. From his school bag he retrieved the pack of Cadbury's chocolate Charlie and Anne had given him for Christmas. He opened it and broke a square off, savouring the richness of it.

He was ashamed that he hadn't been able to buy any of them any presents, but they seemed to understand.

After a week of the holidays, Harry felt he was beginning to miss school, something that had definitely never happened before. He wasn't struggling as much with his lessons this year, and he liked having Mrs Blake for a teacher. And he was finally beginning to make friends.

But he still felt something was missing. As he took another square of chocolate, Harry closed his eyes and heard the sounds of the television echoing through from the living room. He blocked out the noise and thought of his parents, as he did every Christmas.

Where would he be, if they were alive now? What would he be like? Harry thought of the outrage on his friends' face's if he ever told them that he had no idea of what his parents had actually looked like, that there wasn't a single photo of them in the house.

He felt a single tear drip down his face. For once he didn't try to wipe it away.


	9. Watson

The first days of July in Little Whinging dawned already stifling hot. Regardless of the awful weather, Harry had spent the whole weekend out in the garden, on the orders of his aunt, trying to magic some life back into her wilting rose beds.

His attentions, however, did not seem to be having the desired effect. Or, in fact, any effect at all. The flowers were drooping on their stems, and the leaves had turned an unhealthy shade of yellow, despite their constant watering.

Harry could empathise with them. The baking sun had started to turn even his pale skin dark with sunburn, and he could feel a trickle of sweat run down his forehead as he worked. It didn't help that, only a few metres away, Dudley was lounging on a stripy deckchair, reading a comic and sucking happily on an ice lolly.

He watched with some satisfaction, when the rapidly melting lolly broke away from its wooden stick and rolled down Dudley's white t-shirt, into the grass. He turned away, back to his work, ignoring Dudley's howl of displeasure. His thoughts went back to school.

Strange to say, that despite continued teasing by most of his class and the occasional beating from Dudley and his gang, Harry almost looked forward to school these days. Mostly because it got him away from number 4 Privet Drive, and Aunt Petunia's regime of constant chores.

But regardless of his new found almost-happiness with the state of his school life, Harry couldn't help remembering that in only two weeks, school was going to break up for summer. He was going to have the pleasure of Dudley's company for six whole weeks, without any means of easy escape. The idea made him feel slightly desperate, and panicky, and cast a dark shadow over the remaining weeks of school. There were only two things, he believed, that were going to sustain him throughout the summer.

One was the promise, that in September, Dudley would be gone to boarding school, gone for nearly four glorious months, and he, Harry would be going to Stonewall.

He had heard all about Stonewall from Anne, whose older sister went there. She had relayed back to Harry (and Nick, who would be joining him there) all sorts of horrible stories, about how the older boys would round up the year 7 pupils and dunk their heads in the toilet, about the bullying, the unsympathetic teachers, the terrible food.

But Harry was certain that nothing could be worse than Dudley. Only a handful of people who were going to Stonewall knew him. They couldn't possibly turn the two hundred other people in their year against him. For the first time in his life, Harry was determined to fit in. For the first time, he was going to have friends.

The second was that, next weekend, it was Dudley's birthday. Harry was praying that Dudley received enough video games to last him well into the summer holidays, and so reduce the amount of time he might have to spend in the same room as Dudley.

By nine o'clock that night, fed and showered, Harry was back in his cupboard with the door firmly shut on him by Aunt Petunia. He had occupied himself with the few token sums Mrs Blake had given the class for homework – with only a few weeks to go until summer, most of the teachers had given up trying to teach them anything new and were now focusing on getting the school play ready for the end of the year.

The end of year play had been steadily getting worse for years and years now, but it was a school tradition and the teachers refused to give it up. This time the story was some condensed version of a Sherlock Holmes novel one of the teachers had cobbled together. Dudley had been given the part of a patient in a lunatic asylum, a role Harry secretly thought very fitting.

The headmistress had decreed that as they were leaving the school, all of year six had to have a part in the play. Harry, who hated acting, or anything that involved standing somewhere people could see them and possibly laugh at him, had been forced into being the coach driver. All he had to do was hold a pair of pretend reins and make the noises of the horse's hooves, using the two hollow coconut halves Mrs Blake had provided him with. He was still dreading it.

The play was at the front of Harry's mind the next morning at breakfast, distracted as he was by Dudley's disgusting consumption of toast loaded with Marmite. He collected his tattered rucksack, nodded wearily at Uncle Vernon' s demand that he get his hair cut, and headed off to school.

As usual, Anne met him at the corner of the road. She was, to Harry's confusion, hopping from one foot to the other franticly. Usually when she did this, she was about to tell him something very exciting, like when her parents had taken her to Disneyland. But today she was biting her lip and looking worried.

"What is it?" Harry asked, as he drew level with her and she fell into step beside him. "What's wrong?"

"It's the play!" she exclaimed. "Jack tripped over at Charlie's party on Saturday and now there's no one to play Watson!"

"Oh." Harry said. He wasn't really very bothered about the play. Then the rest of what Anne had just said registered with him. "Charlie's party?"

Anne went very quiet. "Harry…"

They arrived at school, hung up their bags in the cloakroom and filed into the classroom in silence, their pencil cases and exercise books in hand. Anne drifted away to her table and Harry sat down with a thump and slumped down in his seat. The chair opposite him, Charlie's, was still empty, but Mrs Blake had just walked in, and raised her eyebrows at his dejected look.

"Tut tut, Harry. No slouching after the bell goes."

"The bell hasn't gone yet." He muttered as she continued on past him, but he straightened up anyway and cast his eyes towards the door. Nick and Charlie had just walked in, caught up in an animated conversation. They quietened down quickly as Mrs Blake glared over at them and Nick sat down next to Anne, who began whispering in his ear. Nick's eyes flicked over to Harry, who looked away.

Charlie grinned at Harry as he sat down and Mrs Blake took the register. Harry gave him a weak smile and looked down at the table. He sighed.

Obviously, he thought, he had been silly to imagine school life was getting better. This turn of events made him long even harder for this school year to be over and done with, and then he would never have to see more than a handful of theses people again. Because he was sure he had worked out exactly why he had not been invited to Charlie's party on Saturday.

And, as always, he could trace his problems back to their root. It was Dudley. It was always Dudley.

Harry had noticed that, in the past couple of months, Charlie seemed to have grown very distant to him. In the playground, he had noticed Charlie talking a lot to Dudley, who had gestured a lot in Harry's direction. In the first few weeks he had often seen the playground monitors physically pull Dudley or Malcolm off Charlie, and both of them had turned up the next day sporting a bruise or two.

But now, Harry thought about it, Charlie was still talking to Dudley at break times. And Harry could imagine what Dudley was saying about him all too well.

It would be all the things Harry had thought he would never have to hear said about him again, behind his back or to his face. All the rumours that Dudley had gleefully made up and spread around when he was in his most virulent Harry-hating phase, almost two years ago now. That his parents weren't dead, they were in prison for child killing, that Harry was lying about them just to get sympathy from the teachers.

Dudley had turned the entire school against him that year. No one had spoken to him unless they were teasing him, or unless a teacher had forced them to. Every day for that year he had dreaded going to school, and he had cried himself to sleep almost every night.

It was only after a long summer holiday that every one had finally forgotten, more or less, about the rumours, and Dudley had gotten bored with tormenting Harry and moved onto playing video games non-stop, that things that finally gone back to normal. He didn't want to have a revival in those rumours now, especially by someone who he had considered a friend.

The silence of the two hours of arithmetic and literacy that followed was both a blessing and a curse to Harry. He desperately wanted to speak to Charlie, to find out if what he suspected was true. But at the same time, he was dreading what Charlie might say. He had wanted to end primary school on a happy note. Now that didn't seem as likely.

Finally the bell rang for break, and Harry's class gave a collective sigh of relief and headed in a mad rush towards the door. Harry trailed along behind them, crossed the playground, and sat down on the grass of the field they used to play rounders or cricket.

He sat by himself for a few minutes. It felt like being all the way back at the beginning of the year again, with no one to talk to. Then, after a little while, he felt Charlie sit down next to him.

"Anne came to talk to me." He said. "She told me that she accidentally told you about my party this weekend."

Harry nodded. "Why didn't you invite me?" he asked, knowing that he sounded just as girly and annoying as Caroline or Keisha. "It's because of what Dudley told you, isn't it?" he said, answering his own question."

Charlie sighed. "Yeah. But not because of all those rumours. I've already heard all those and they're all a load of rubbish. No. the thing is that…"

He broke off and paused to think for a second. "I'm going to be at Smeltings next year, and the only people that I'm going to know will be Dudley and Piers. And they kept saying that if I didn't stop being friends with you, and if I didn't invite him to my party instead of you, that they were going to make my life miserable next year. They said they were going to make everyone hate me."

He took a breath and finished his garbled speech. "If it was just a day school I wouldn't have mind, because I could still see you and Nick and Anne after school and at the weekend. But it's not! I'll be stuck in there with them; the same bunch of people all the time and never see anyone else! So I don't want them to hate me. You do understand, don't you, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. I do understand."

He passed the rest of the day in a miserable blur. He _did_ understand, but that didn't mean he didn't feel upset. The crowning glory of the afternoon's terribleness came at three o'clock, when he and his class filed into the school hall for a rehearsal, and Mrs Blake discovered that there was now no one to play Watson, and so it fell to Harry to fill in. Mrs Blake gave him a full copy of the script and told him to learn his lines well, because he highly doubted that Jack would be able to take up his part in the play when he came back to school.

He had not even mustered up the effort to refuse, and so he walked home that night with his own personal cloud of gloom hanging over his head. Anne walked along with him. She was determined, it seemed, not to mention Charlie, and had instead embraced Harry's new part in the play with enthusiasm. She loved acting herself and was playing the part of the leading lady.

The rest of the week passed in the same sort of miserable blur, punctuated by fits if terror an embarrassment whenever he was forced to step onto the stage. Anne and Mrs Blake however, praised his attempts at acting and Mrs Blake privately reassured him that he was much better as Watson than Jack had been, especially by not staring gormlessly off the side of the stage whenever he forgot his lines.

Then the weekend of Dudley's birthday party came. It had started off well. Harry had been almost glad to go to Mrs Figg's house – she neither knew nor cared about anything but her stupid cats. But then Mrs Figg had broken her leg, and so the Dursleys had been forced to take him to the zoo with them. Even better.

It was while they were there that everything had gone wrong.

He really hadn't meant to do anything wrong, despite what the Dursleys might think. In fact, he wasn't even sure what he had done, or that it was even his fault the glass of that snake enclosure had disappeared. He was only a ten year old boy. How could he have done that? He hadn't even been touching the glass. He had just been hoping something horrible would happen to Dudley, in revenge for Dudley pushing him out of the way.

The Dursleys had ignored his side of the story (as per usual) and he was locked into his cupboard for the remainder of the weekend, with only his play script to amuse him.

Perhaps, he mused, on Monday morning, it was a good thing the glass had disappeared and he had ended up in here – he had managed to learn all of his lines. Just as well, because the first performance of the play was tonight and he didn't want to embarrass himself. It was going to be shown three times- tonight, tomorrow and Wednesday, but tonight was the most important one. Everyone would be coming tonight, even the mayor.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, of course, had bought tickets for all three performances, determined to see every second of their son's theatrical genius. They wouldn't be pleased, Harry thought, to find out that he had ended up with a bigger part than Dudley's.

He heard Aunt Petunia come down the stairs at about seven, and he sat up and rapped gently on his cupboard door as she went past, reminding her to let him out. She ignored him and went into the kitchen and put the radio on.

Half an hour later, Dudley had had his breakfast and was sitting in the car, beeping happily on the horn as he waiting for his mother to fetch her handbag and take him to school. Harry had knocked loudly whenever she walked past, but had gotten no reply.

This time when she went past Harry called out to her. "Um, Aunt Petunia? You need to let me out now, or I'll be late for school."

A few seconds late, he was relieved to hear her opening the door, but only wide enough for her to poke her long neck into to he cupboard.

"You aren't going anywhere for the rest of this week, Harry! I won't have you ruining the rest of Dudley's time with his friends with your nasty pranks. When the holidays start, you can come out. But until then, you aren't leaving this house. Not even for the play!"

She shut the door on him, and moments after he heard the front door slam shut too. The house was silent.

Harry spent the rest of the day reading over his lines for want of anything else to do. He hoped that when evening came, his aunt would relent and let him out, but no such luck. The three Dursleys left again at six, returning at nine full of praise of Dudley's incredible acting.

After they had all gone to bed, he heard Dudley sneak down and stop outside his cupboard door. He saw a piece of paper, folded in two, being slid under the door and picked it up eagerly. He sat up and switched on his light. _Harry_, it said on the outside. He unfolded and began to read.

_Harry_, it said,

_I know you said you didn't like acting and that you didn't want to play Watson, but you have to come back to school tomorrow! Gordon had to play Watson instead and he was terrible, the play was a complete disaster. We told the audience you were ill and that was why everything wasn't going to plan, but you could tell no one believed us._

_Dudley said you weren't in school today because you were out at the weekend at the zoo having fun and you were too tired to come to school. That was a pathetic excuse! I bet you were just too much of wimp to come in and admit to everyone that you didn't know your lines or something. _

_You have to come back tomorrow or the play will be ruined for everyone. And if you don't turn up, consider yourself uninvited to my end of school sleepover. _

_Anne _

When Aunt Petunia came down on Saturday morning, she paused by Harry's door and unlocked it. It was a bright and sunny day, the start of the long summer holidays. Harry couldn't have felt any less happy.

Even his aunt looked a little sympathetic as he sat down at the kitchen table. His face was white and pinched, and his eyes were red from crying.

* * *

And t hat was it, Harry thought, when he came in for breakfast the following week. That was primary school over and done with forever. He would never be at a school with Anne or Charlie or Dudley ever again. Nick was going to Stonewall, but he was the kind not to say anything.

Harry crunched moodily on his soggy bowl of cornflakes, tying to postpone the moment when Aunt Petunia would hound him into the garden to mulch the rosebuds. He even managed to ignore Dudley in his new Smeltings uniform or Uncle Vernon's commentary on the articles in the newspaper. It was more difficult to ignore the smell coming from the kitchen sink, where Aunt Petunia was dying his new school uniform.

Secondary school was going to be his last chance, he thought. Really, his last chance to make friends, to fit in, to be someone special or important. Stonewall wasn't anything much, but it was something. Something was better than nothing. And it wasn't as if anything better was coming his way.

In the hall, the post flopped onto the doormat. Harry got up to get it.

* * *

Well, this is the last chapter. I know that i've left out about five months of the year, but there wasn't really that much else mentioned in Philosophers Stone that i could use for the story. I know its ended on a bit of a depressing note, but I needed it to fit in with the idea that Harry had "no one" at school, and that he really felt Hogwarts was the first place he could be properly happy. Please tell me what you think about the story, or if you have any ideas for a follow-up fic, or something. I was thinking about having them all meeting up after Deathly Hallows maybe, but I would look to hear any other suggestions.


End file.
